He had apparently spaced out for a second or two. When he came to, a large, annoyed woman was leaning in toward him. "Mister? Mister, are you even listening to me?" He looked at the receding rows of fluorescent lights on the struts of the cavernous ceiling, the gleaming linoleum floors, the pallets of sale-priced plastic coolers and Special K and motor oil, and then he looked at the rack of merchandise at his back and understood that he was in a Wal-Mart, behind the returns counter. He heard his own voice saying, as if by reflex, "Do you have your receipt?" * At the first opportunity, he locked himself in a bathroom stall and dug out his wallet. His driver's license showed the right name, birthdate, and photo, but it had been issued by the State of North Carolina, and it listed an address he'd never heard of. He scrubbed his face at the sink. It was him in the mirror, a tanned and healthy 56, hair mostly gray but still all there. He felt groggy, as if he'd woken prematurely. It was only the numbness, he thought, that kept the panic at bay. If he didn't push, he found he knew the answers to some questions. He was due to clock out in an hour. When he left the parking lot he would go under the highway, turn left, and merge. * He found his way to a battered white Toyota pickup in the employee section. The key in his pocket started the engine. He forced himself not to think too hard as he drove, taking the turns that seemed to have a certain inevitability. He wound up on a dirt road near someplace called Pittsboro, in front of a small brick house surrounded by high yellow grass, pines, and live oaks. Question: Where does he work? Options: - not enough information   - North Carolia Highway Patrol   - Wal Mart   - Pep Boys === The correct answer is
Wal Mart
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The pews were packed at First Baptist Church, Coreyville. As part-time music minister of the church, Greg Tenorly sat in his usual place on the podium, behind and slightly to the left of the pastor. He wondered why attendance was up. It was a perfect day--seventy degrees, sunny. That had to be part of the reason. And the sermon title was 'Forgiveness Fighters.' People would much rather hear a sermon about forgiveness than one about Hell. Everybody wanted to be forgiven. But when it came to forgiving others--many people fight it. The pastor said these folks were the Forgiveness Fighters. He read a scripture passage. Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven. When Greg heard these verses, which he knew by memory, it was like a slap in the face. How many times had he already forgiven his father? But he knew that 'seventy times seven' did not mean literally 490 times. The number 'seven' in the Bible symbolized completeness. It meant forgiving an unlimited number of times. But how could Greg ever forgive his father for killing his mother? Maybe if Greg had been there it wouldn't have happened. But he had moved out of the house during his first semester at Lamar University--even though it was only forty minutes away, in Beaumont. A fellow music major had been more than happy to let Greg share the little rent house and the expenses. Ralph Tenorly had sent his wife to the grocery store for more chips and dip. The big game was already starting, and there were no snacks in the house. But on her way back home, a pickup truck blew through a stop sign, crashing into the driver's side of the car. Barbara was killed instantly. Question: How long did Greg probably live in a rental house? Options: - Few years   - About 6 month   - Few days   - not enough information === The correct answer is
About 6 month
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Thanks Richard for asking. Yes. I have something to tell. We have record rainfall during 24 hours in Lahore, breaking previous one day record by more than 60%. Our drainage system is pathetic. Other systems such as telephone, electricity, cable etc. are no better. Poor planning has further been aggravated by extremely mismanaged maintenance and operational bugs. This morning, when I was out for our fajr (morning prayers) in masjid, a neighbor told me that the pole laden with electricity meters was under fire. After that he buzzed off for complaint office. When I returned after prayers, I saw fire reaching cable part after meter; one meter had caught fire and other meters (including ours) was in danger of catching fire. It was still dark. I waited for someone to come out. No one appeared. I came inside and told my wife about and went again out to see if I could find someone to go about extinguishing fire. IT WAS DAM RISKY AS DIGGING WAS DONE BY TELEPHONE COMPANY AND RAINS HAD MADE A MESS ON OUR STREET. No one was seen. My wife came out; brought hose pipe. I managed to use it as water gun and there was some post-extinguishing sparking; fire was put out. I want to add here that hose pipe should only be used when someone knows how to send bursts of water so that electric current cannot build a circuit. Later in day we heard about the most stupid thing; people were inside their houses, watching flames from pole but not knowing what to do. THEY DID NOT EVEN COME OUT TO SHARE THE ACTIVITY. That has happened today. I am going to ask everyone about it one by one. Also, I am still looking for the guy who went to complaint office and was never seen thereafter this morning. That can happen to anybody. Question: After the end of this story, how was the narrator probably feeling? Options: - annoyed   - grateful   - excited   - not enough information === The correct answer is

annoyed
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